


Barmaro Drabbles

by spacegeography



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Baby Barmaro, Fluff, M/M, it's a grab bag what can i say, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7560019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegeography/pseuds/spacegeography
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cross posts of my short fics from tumblr. Will add more as I go along.  You can always send me prompts at <a href="starrynvghts.tumblr.com">my tumblr</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promise me you won't let anything happen to him

It was hard telling Maria. It happened over three different skype calls. Maria hung up on the first one. Nick called her again the next day. She listened that time, silent, strained. “I can’t hear anymore of this,” she finally said, and hung up again. She called back a week later. That call had lasted well over an hour. Rafael had paused their movie but after twenty minutes, he turned the tv off and tried not to listen to Nick in the other room. He felt guilty, though he knew he shouldn’t. He wasn’t breaking up a marriage. But he knew that when Maria was feeling spiteful, she took it out by making it hard for Nick to see Zara. And that was to painful for Nick, too painful for Rafael to watch.

When Nick came out, he flopped onto the couch without a word, just arranged himself so he was lying with his head on Rafael’s stomach and said, “I can’t believe you kept watching the movie without me.”

Telling Zara was hard in a different way. It meant careful explanations, about men loving men, about parents dating after a divorce. Nick took her and Rafael to get ice cream. Zara had chocolate all around her mouth when she asked, “So are you getting married?” Nick laughed, “No, hija. People like to date a long time before they think about getting married.” Zara looked mad. Rafael felt like he might throw up his strawberry shake right then. “Well,” she went on, stabbing at her ice cream with her spoon, “when you do get married, I wanna be your flower girl.” 

“Of course, sweetheart, you’re my first choice.” And Zara was happy after that.

They didn’t see her too much. Flights to and from California were expensive. Zara had school. Nick and Rafael had work. When they scheduled visits, Nick lit up for weeks. He had it marked on his calendar, on his phone, on a post it on the fridge. As if he would forget. Sometimes Nick would tap the note and turn to smile at Rafael. “Fifteen more days.” 

“I know. Because you told me this morning, too.”

“Do you think she’s too old for the zoo? Maybe we should -”

“Quierdo. She asked to go the zoo. She wants to. It’s fine.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” But Nick would still worry, excitedly, each day until they went to pick her up at the airport together. He took Rafael’s hand and then released it. Took it again. Let go. Each time.

“She already knows we’re dating. Just hold my damn hand,” Rafael would say.

When Zara finally got to them, and Nick had picked her up and spun her around and kissed her cheeks a thousand times, it was time to go home. They had a big day tomorrow, and needed a good night’s sleep, Nick said. Each time.

And as Nick put Zara’s suitcase in the trunk, Zara would roll her eyes to Rafael. “Daddy get’s a little too worked up.”

“I know. You’ll watch out for him, sí? Promise you won’t let anything happen to him?” 

“I promise,” she would say, and they would seal it with a handshake. Each time.


	2. Meet me at midnight. Alone.

He didn’t owe Nick an explanation. He didn’t owe him one in the elevator, he didn’t owe him one now. 

(So why the fuck did he feel so desperate to give him one?)

Rafael opened his bottom drawer pulled out the scotch, but left the glasses behind. Alex had fucked him over. The DA had fucked him over. He knew it, he knew it the whole time; he didn’t need Nick to rub it in his face.

Amaro. He was Amaro and not Nick, and Jesus, Rafael needed to get his shit together.

Amaro had confronted him in the elevator and Rafael had held his own. By the end of it, Rafael had wanted to shove Nick against the wall shove his hand down his pants. And wasn’t that a fucked up way of getting revenge?

Rafael took a swig.

Alex had always been good at getting his way. He could sweet talk any girl into dating him, even if the girl had already promised Rafael she would go to the dance with him. And yes, he had only asked Yelina to go as his friend (because he didn’t want to kiss her and couldn’t figure out why) but when Alex whisked her away Rafael still felt possessive and jealous. “It’s not my fault,” Alex said. “I didn’t force her. You don’t think a woman can make up her own mind, Raf? That’s messed up.”

And so Rafael didn’t fight, didn’t say, “But you promised” and he didn’t go to the dance. He and Eddie went out and paid some kids to buy them beer, and Rafael threw up after just two. 

Rafael could handle more liquor now. He took another gulp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Alex was his best friend, and he fucking hated him. For all this mess, for Enrique Trouble, for everything he’d ever managed to take away from Rafael before he even noticed. 

And he desperately, desperately, needed Nick to know that. He needed Nick to know he though Alex deserved everything he got, that Yelina meant nothing to him, that Rafael spent half the time at SVU staring at Nick and imagining being rough, hard, fast, kissing him until he finally _shut up._

Rafael took another drink. He pulled out his phone, his fingers a little clumsy as he put in his passcode. 

“Meet me at midnight. Alone.”


	3. Chapter 3

The last case Rafael had worked had been grueling. Witnesses didn’t show up, the defense threw a curveball with their expert, and the jury had spent five days deliberating while Rafael went over every mistake and misstep he’d made. In the end he got his verdict; he was relieved but somehow even more exhausted. It barely took any convincing to get him to agree to a week off.

He booked the most recent flight to California he could, and soon found himself in a crushing hug in LAX while Nick kissed his hair. 

“I missed you so much,” he said.

“Four months,” Rafael agreed. It felt so good to be in his arms again, his face pressed into the soft cotton of Nick’s t-shirt.

They had spent the first few days at Nick’s apartment, ordering in, watching telenovelas, and making out with the same enthusiasm usually only found in a sixteen year old boy who just found out how to unhook a bra. Rafael was tempted to quit his job outright and never leave the house again. But of course it would come to an end. Nick hadn’t been able to take the whole week off, so Rafael would be left to his own devices during the day. And on Wednesday Maria called and asked if Nick could pick up Zara up from school the next day and bring her in on Friday. 

“You don’t mind, quierdo, do you?” Nick asked.

“Of course not,” Rafael said, though he felt a bit nervous. He had never spent much time with Zara, and he still feared that she wouldn’t like him. But he kept his anxiety to himself and went with Nick the next day to pick up Zara. The line of cars was long, so they parked on a side street near by and walked the rest of the way, hand in hand. Rafael kept his eyes forward, but he wanted to check the people around them. It was a long lasting effect of growing up and living in the city - always check who was watching you, who had a problem with you. Nick seemed unconcerned, though, so Rafael allowed himself to slowly relax. Zara ran up to them and gave them each a hug, just as bone crushing as her father gave. She slipped in-between them to hold both their hands as she chattered happily about her day and grades.

The rest of the evening went well in Rafael’s opinion. They made dinner together and Rafael helped Zara study for a spelling test. It was so casual, so domestic. Rafael felt like they were truly a family, and his heart hurt knowing he would be gone in a few days. Zara too, seemed a little down as the night went on. Nick let her play on the computer for a while, and when she was done she curled up on the couch next to Nick and was quiet while the watched tv until it was time for bed.

The next morning Rafael woke up early to make pancakes, only to find Nick didn’t have any Bisquick or flour. He settled for toasting some frozen waffles. Nick ate them quickly (and with way too much syrup, honestly it was a miracle he had all his teeth still) but Zara hardly ate any.

“You okay, mija?”

“I don’t feel good.”

Nick put the back of his hand to Zara’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

“My stomach hurts.”

Nick glanced over at Rafael. “You don’t have a test today, do you?”

“No,” she said.

“Okay. If you don’t feel good you can stay home with Uncle Rafael, okay?”

Rafael suddenly felt sick too. He’d never watched a kid for so long, let alone a sick one. But no matter how many panicked looks he gave Nick, it didn’t seem like he was going to get out of it. Nick left and Zara lied down on the couch. She didn’t say anything, just turned on cartoons. Rafael let his guard down and actually thought he’d get through the day.

“Uncle Rafael? Can I ask you something?” Zara muted the tv and Rafael hesitantly sat on the couch next to her. He hoped to god she wasn’t about to ask where babies come from or something like that. “Are you sure I should call you my uncle?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not my uncle. Aren’t you kind of like… my other dad?”

“Oh, um.” Nick and Rafael had never discussed how they would explain their relationship to Zara, and so far they had been lucky that she hadn’t questioned it. “You don’t have to call me anything like that if you don’t want to. But um, I guess I am sort of a step-dad. Not that me and your dad are married, and we won’t be any time soon, but. Um. I guess it’s like that.”

“But you and Daddy are together like he and Mom were?”

“Well, yes. We’re couple.”

“Ok. Is fag a bad word?”

If Rafael had been drinking he would have done a spit take worthy of an Emmy. “Yes. It is, where did you hear that?”

“I read it. Last night on the computer. Some kids at school called you and Daddy that.”

“They messaged you?”

“Yeah.”

Rafael could practically see the paperwork for a lawsuit being typed before his eyes. “Is that why you didn’t want to go to school.”

Zara looked down guiltily. “It did my my stomach hurt.”

Rafael pulled Zara close into a hug instinctively. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Me y tu papá will take care of this.” He kissed the top of her hair, the same way Nick did with her, the same way Nick did with him. He and Nick, a detective and New York ADA would make a formidable force when confronting the school and the parents. He was glad. He would do anything to protect his family.


	4. Chapter 4

He’s not a single parent. Every time he catches himself thinking like that he feel guilty. Maria is still an equal part of Zara’s life. He knows how hard it is to be overseas, knows that making calls is hard to schedule, that they will freeze and cut off, that last minute things will prevent them. And that’s not her fault. But when Nick is feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, he can’t help feeling angry. He can’t help feeling abandoned. His mother helps, she helps so much. Watching Zara when he’s working, coming over even in the middle of the night because Zara is sick and Nick is panicking and close to crying because he just can’t handle this, ma, I don’t know what to do.

There are times when Maria scolds Nick for how he’s raising her. She’ll say, “You didn’t put her in time out for that?” or “You can’t keep letting her eating junk, Nick.” And he holds his tongue so he doesn’t scream, “She was just having fun,” or “When I’m coming off a ten hour shift and all she’ll eat is mac and cheese I am not getting in a damn fight over it.” She loves Zara, with all her heart, but she’s missed so much. She’s missed the subtle personality shifts and growths in Zara that are too hard for Nick to explain through a patchy skype call. She missed when Zara had stomach flu and Nick nearly had to take her to the hospital to keep her hydrated. She missed when Zara jumped of the swing in the park, cut her face, and only said, “Daddy, did you see me? I wanna do it again!”

And now she’s not here at 3am when Nick is awoken by the sound of Zara crying and calling for him. He’s out of bed and in her room before he’s even fully awake.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Are you okay?”

She reaches out her arms for him and he quickly sits on her bed and pulls her into his lap. He rocks her slowly and strokes her hair, humming a lullaby he doesn’t know all the words to until she’s calmed down enough to talk.

“I had a bad dream, Daddy.”

“Oh, mija, I’m sorry. What did you dream about?”

“We were swimming in the pool but then it was the ocean and an octopus touched me and you said it a fish but it wasn’t, and his tentacles touched me!”

Nick kissed the top of her head to hide his smile. It was scary for her, of course, but he could only find it endearing that his daughters worst nightmare was something touching her leg in the ocean. He guessed they wouldn’t be taking any trips to the beach that summer.

“That must have been scary. But it was just a dream, and you’re safe now, hm?”

“Can I sleep in bed with you?”

Maria, if he told her, would say that Zara needed to sleep in her own bed. That he was just doing what was easiest. That she needed independence and self-soothing techniques. But Nick had his own nightmares. Worse than octopuses. And he hated the feeling of anyone touching his skin when he woke up from them. He didn’t want (he couldn’t let) Zara to have that. He never wanted her to be frightened, or think he wouldn’t be there for her. So he said, “Of course, honey, come on,” and carried her to his room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [from this prompt](http://starrynvghts.tumblr.com/post/146429335680/the-first-time-that-nick-drove-rafael-to-lax-so-he)

Nick’s heart ached unremittingly. It ached for Zara, who he only saw a few days a week; for Gil who he saw once a month; for New York where he’d grown up, spent all his life, made all his friends; for Rafael who said “We’ll be okay” but was clearly lying. It was a dull, empty feeling that went along with the pain in his knees, but aspirin didn’t help. Drinking did, sometimes. Drinking enough so he couldn’t remember what Rafael looked like the last time they’d been in the same bed. So he couldn’t remember the way the sun came in through the open window and moved up his body as it rose for the morning, until it got to his face and made him look ethereal until the light woke him up, smiling when he opened his eyes to see Nick next to him.

Tomorrow would be a drinking a day. 

Today Nick was refusing to think of what would come next. It was unhealthy. Back in anger management the counselor told him he had a habit of refusing to acknowledge his feelings. That he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control them, so he ignored them. Nick ignored how he felt about that for a long time too.

Rafael turned the radio up so they could hear it over the wind whipping through the open windows of Nick’s car. He say along to the pop song on, one Nick knew Zara liked but didn’t know the words to. He caught on to the chorus, but let Rafael sing solo for the verses. He loved listening to Rafael sing anyway. He loved listening to him talk, he loved his voice when he was telling Nick all the ways he wanted to fuck him, or when he was bad mouthing the prosecution, or when he was animatedly describing his day. There were nights where Nick begged Rafael to stay on the line talking until he fell asleep. Rafael always agreed. He loved talking.

Rafael held the last note for an impressively long time as the song faded into a commercial. Nick smiled and called him a show off. He was trying to be happy. He was trying to stay in his head, in the moment, freeze it in his memory, trap it in amber.

Rafael leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’re gonna make me crash the car,” Nick said.

“It’d be one hell of an obituary.”

“I love you.”

Rafael put his hand on Nick’s shoulder, rubbed his thumb over the fabric. They pulled into airport parking lot. Nick couldn’t talk anymore. His throat was tight. His heart ached. He’d pick up more beer on the way home for the next day.

Rafael got his luggage out of the trunk, and they walked inside quietly, not even holding hands. Nick kept his in his pockets, digging his nails into his skin to ground himself. 

He thought about the future, if he could ever work this out so he was happy. He couldn’t see how. He’d let his life fall apart, had barely even fought to stop it as it crumbled before him, dissipated like sand.

Rafael stopped them when they got to security. He looked expectantly to Nick, who did nothing. So he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tight around Nick, pressed as close to him as he could. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

They would skype and call and text and visit but it wasn’t enough for Nick, and it would never stop hurting. He wanted his life back. Where he wasn’t broken, where he hadn’t let both his kids move across the country without a fight, where he hadn’t let himself dead-end at his job, where he hadn’t gone after a suspect thinking “he could kill me” and not caring enough. Where he got to spend every night next to Rafael. 

The counselor at anger management said that bottling up emotions couldn’t last forever. Eventually they would release, like a shaken up can of coke and it would be messy, spread farther than it would have otherwise. 

And there, in LAX with hundreds of people walking around them, Nick felt the last build of pressure before he popped. He coughed wetly and pressed his face into Rafael’s neck, breathed in the scent of his skin, and cried. His shoulders shook, his throat let out noises that he shouldn’t be making at his age, and he got the sleeve or Rafael’s linen shirt wet as he cried. 

“I love you,” Rafael said, and Nick held tighter to him, afraid he would back away. He didn’t know what he would do the next day when Rafael was gone. Because he would be. No matter how much Nick wanted to beg Rafael to stay, no matter how long he held on to him, eventually Rafael would get on a plane and the wheels would lift and Nick would be alone. Because there was another pressure inside of him growing, and he was afraid what would happen it got to the point of no return, but it was coming; there was no way Nick could think to stop it. It was coming, and he’d be going with it.


	6. Chapter 6

Nick planned to come out, maybe, in the future. When he was in college. When he lived away from his parents and wouldn’t have to see the disappointed, disgusted looks on their faces everyday. When his father was gone, or dead. 

It was a solid plan.

It worked really well when he was single. He could crush on boys and girls and his parents, nobody, would ever know. But Rafi ruined it. With his stupid, cute face, and the way his hair flopped over his forehead, and how he could talk a mile a minute and insult you before you knew what was happening. With the way he kissed Nick after school gentle and hesitant and then said, “Sorry,” and Nick said, “Well, you could do it again if you want.”

Rafi came over to study a lot. They spent plenty of time studying; both of them were determined to to get good enough scholarships to get far away from home. But when they’d exhausted their flashcards, and started teasing each other about the state of their geometry notes, it always ended up with making out. Nick loved to have Rafael on top of him, his comforter bunched underneath him, the kisses slow and soft, small smiles and laughs in between. 

But it was a dangerous game when Nick’s door didn’t lock and his father didn’t knock. 

His father caught them, Nick’s hand in Rafi’s hair, Rafael’s palms spread out on his sides. Nicolas pulled Rafi up and off the bed by the back of his shirt, shouting at Nick. Nick could barely hear it. He was going to die, he knew it. He was going to be out on the streets if he somehow lived through the night. He was panicking, hyperventilating, blood rushing in his ears garbling his father’s words. And Rafi was yelling too. He was short for their age, so he puffed himself up like a bird, raising himself up on tiptoes while he shouted right back. Nicolas slapped, told him he wouldn’t be disrespected in his own house. Nick was up, tugging on Rafael’s arm, trying to get him away, but Rafael wouldn’t go, he shoved Nicolas with both hands like he was fucking suicidal. 

“Raf, Raf, please, just go, don’t Rafi, come on,” Nick begged. He’d gotten hit plenty of times, in his mother’s place, in his sister’s place. He’d gladly go in Rafi’s place too. Nicolas was shouting for him to get out of his house, and Rafael was getting his coat, and Nick was releaved, Rafi would be safe soon. He could take whatever his father would give him, if Rafael would just get out, go home, be safe. But Rafael grabbed him too, pulled him by the arm until they were out in the street. He was still yelling. Nick was still shaking. 

“You’re not going back there. You can come to my house, and call your mom tomorrow. But your not going back, Nick. I won’t let you.”

“I live there,” Nick said.

“Fine, then I’ll get your father to leave,” Rafael said, as if it were easy. And he always had a way of getting things done, talking his way into and out of everything. And a few months later, Nicolas said he was moving out, going to Miami, good riddance. Nick and Sonya and Mom had a party, a special dinner. Nick was so happy, it was the best day of his life. And Rafael was by his side, gladly taking seconds and sucking up to his mom, and holding Nick’s hand the whole time.


	7. College AU pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [from this prompt](http://starrynvghts.tumblr.com/post/146478324330/one-time-nick-invites-rafael-to-hang-out)

The fact that Nick Amaro is his friend seems like a joke. A cosmic long con. Nick is good looking, athletic, charismatic; Rafael is smart-mouthed, awkward limbed, a show off. Rafael is sure it’s going to blow up in his face one day when Nick either realizes his mistake or reveals its all been part of an elaborate prank since freshman year. But he’s also so damn hot Rafael doesn’t even care half the time. 

Nick doesn’t really care about personal space, and Rafael has thanked God for that every night for three years. He sits too close. He touches Rafael’s shoulder when he asks him a question. He gives playful shoves, half-hearted punches, tackles Rafael onto the bed when Rafael says something cutting. He got an A on his biochem final and he took Rafael’s head in his hand and gave him a loud kiss on the forehead before whooping and jumping on his other friend’s back. Rafael damn near fainted. He keeps meaning to get around to getting over the crush, but he’s got a full course loud and well, Nick is just so damn hot. And nice. Funny. Hard-working. Caring. 

He jumps at the chance to go with Nick to a party. They don’t usually go out. They stress about grades too much. But it’s early in the semester, no projects due yet. Nick promises it’s a small party, not some kegger or frat party. They get into Nick’s car, the one that clunks like the bottom will fall out and they’ll have to go Flintstones’s style, and merge onto the parkway. 

“It’s not in the city?” Rafael asks.

“Yonkers,” Nick says. He smirks. Rafael watches the way the street lights make shadows on his face. “The guy that invited me… man, Rafi, he’s good looking.”

Rafael doesn’t know what to say to that. His brain has shut down partially, basic functions only. Because Nick is not gay. If he was Rafael would have sucked his dick a long time ago. It was bad enough pining after a straight guy for three years, but a guy he totally could have asked out? Rafael wishes he could eject himself from the car like in a Bond movie and land in the Hudson.

“Yeah?” he eventually says.

“Yeah. Think I’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

“Good for you,” Rafael says bitterly. Nick laughs and tousles his hair. Rafael slaps his hand away and spends the rest of the ride looking out the window.

The party is terrible. Nick is the only one Rafael knows, but he’s busy flirting. Rafael wants to break that punks nose and kiss Nick hard. Nick would realize his mistake and kiss Rafael back, take off his shirt, get on his knees…

Rafael downs the last of his beer, wishes for something stronger. Nick has disappeared. Some girls are doing shots, so he does two with them. He feels sick after, so he goes to find a room to lie down in until this miserable thing is over. 

His hand is on the handle when he hears noises coming from the room. Moans and a sigh, slick sounds, the ones that make Rafael’s cheeks burn and his stomach clench worse. A mans voice groans, “Nick” and there’s a groan in reply, undeniably Nick’s. Rafael needs to leave. He needs more shots. But he stands there because he’s pathetic and in love and waits until he hears Nick come, memorizes the sound for later.


	8. College AU pt 2

Rafael doesn’t talk to him for days after. He’s never been good at pretending he’s not angry. He knows it’s not Nick’s fault but he still feels betrayed, a fool. He makes himself hard to find, going to dinner and the library at different times every day. He bolts out of class before Nick has the chance to find him. And it works. For a week.

Rafael is in his dorm where there’s a knock on the door. It’s loud. Angry. Nick says, “Open up, Rafi. I know you’re in there, I saw you go in.”

So he has no choice but to open the door. Nick is standing there, hands clenched at his side, eyebrows furrowed. “What the fuck is your problem,” Nick demands in a low voice that reminds Rafael of his father.

“Nothing, I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy. Yeah, right. I come out to you and after that you make it a point not to see me. You got a problem with me? Cuz I go with guys too? You know, I thought you were a better person than that, Barba, but I guess not.”

“It’s not that,” Rafael sputters. “It’s…. it’s nothing, Nick. I just…”

“You just what? You wanna call me some names, go ahead. I know I can beat your ass.”

“It’s not that! I’m - look, Nick, I, I’m gay too, alright. It’s not that.”

“You - what?”

“I should’ve told you, but I… I was afraid,” He admits. Nick was quiet now, the anger evaporating, his body language loosening. 

“You know I wouldn’t mind, Rafi. You know I’m not like that.”

“I know. But I never told anybody and it’s…. daunting. You didn’t tell me either.”

“Can I come in?”

Rafael nods and Nick comes in and sits on Rafael’s bed. The sound of the door clicking closed is loud in their mutual silence. If they were studying, hanging out, Rafael would have sat on the bed with Nick. It wouldn’t have been weird. It would’ve been comfortable, familiar, friendly. Now it feels like a magnetic field is keeping them apart.

“Why are you mad at me?” Nick says quietly.

“I’m not mad.” Rafael runs his fingertips over the book on his desk. “I’m jealous. I heard you with that guy.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah.” Rafael can feel his cheeks burning up; he doesn’t dare look at Nick. So it spooks him when there’s suddenly a hand on his shoulder. Nick is looking at him tenderly, but there is still apprehension in his eyes. He tilts his head almost imperceptibly, leans forward. Rafael nods. He’s sure someone else is controlling his body, he’s sure this is a dream. But then Nick presses his lips to his, quickly, chastely, before pulling back. 

“We’re idiots,” Nick says. “We should have told each other sooner.” Rafael’s hands are on his forearms. He feels like the biggest idiot in the world. He feels more lucky than he ever has. He leans in for another kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

Some Advice From Rafael to Nick Re: Freshman Year of College

1\. Don’t pick 8 am classes you will want to die

2\. Don’t let syllabus week lull you into a false sense of security

3\. Buy earplugs before rush week because it is sorority girls chanting 24/7

4\. Coffee

5\. Call your mami once a week

6\. Call your best friend twice a week

7\. Try not to let calling your best friend interfere with homework

8\. Don’t turn down dates because you’re thinking about your best friend

9\. Don’t worry about how your best friend is doing in school, if he’s made new friends, if his father is hurting him, if he’s slowly forgetting about you, all at 1am on Thursday during midterms

10\. Go home for Thanksgiving break, find your best friend, tell him you missed him, kiss his brains out


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from [ sergeantamaro's ](sergeantamaro.tumblr.com)[list of prompts](http://starrynvghts.tumblr.com/post/146412895050/friend-could-u-give-me-some-barmaro-prompts-i-am) for me

When the phone rang Nick was up and racing to the living room so fast he almost thought he should quit football and try out for track. If one of his sisters’ friends called, they’d have the phone line jammed up for hours, which wasn’t fair because half the time Rafael tried to call him he got a busy signal (or maybe that was a good thing; the less Rafael called, the less suspicious his dad would be).

Sonya snagged the phone out of the cradle just before his fingers reached it. She gave him a smirk and then turned her back, hip already resting against the fridge, cord wrapped around her finger. Nick cursed under his breath. “You better not say that again or I won’t give you the phone next time, hermanito,” Sonya said. Nick went to take the phone from her but she jerked it back. “Don’t take to long. Maria said she’s going to call tonight and it’s urgent. Got it?”

“Since when is bad mouthing your gym class urgent?” Nick snapped and finally snached the phone. Sonya gave him a shove on her way out of the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Nick?”

It was Rafael, but his voice sounded different. When he called, Nick never knew what emotion he was going to get. Excited, bored, tired, angry, happy, sometimes all at once as he plotted elaborate vengeance on the chemistry teacher for not giving him full points on his extra credit. But Rafael had never sounded so small, his voice high and stuttered as if he were trying not to cry.

“Rafi? Are you okay?”

“Nick, can you come pick me up? Please. Please, can you just come get me, I… I didn’t know who else to call, I’m sorry.”

Nick’s heart started pounding. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there, Raf. It’s gonna be okay, I’ll be right there.”

“Please. I’m sorry. Please hurry, come get me, Nick, I…”

“Where are you?”

“Around the block from my building.”

“I’ll be right there,” Nick promised. His hands were shaking as he hung up the phone, his vision tunneling as he barged into his sisters’ room. “I need the keys to Reggie’s car,” he said, already shifting through the junk on the dresser.

“You can’t drive,” Sonya said. “And stop touching my stuff,” she added, smacking his hands away.

“It’s an emergency, I’ll owe you one, come on,” he begged. He really couldn’t drive. He only had a permit, his test wasn’t until next month, and his legs were shaking so bad he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep steady pressure on the gas. But he had to go. He had to be there already, get Rafael, protect him from whatever the hell was going on (and the fact that he didn’t know was killing him).

Sonya’s expression changed to concern. “What’s going on, Nicky?”

“My friend - I just need the car, Sonya.”

“You’ll owe me more than one,” she said and plucked the keys out of a small jewelry box.

Nick was out the door before he could even think about the consequences.

It took him too long to get there. He got turned around, forgot which streets were one way, had to pull into a parking lot to turn around twice. He slammed the brakes too much, hesitant at yellow lights and misjudging distance. He knew his cousin would kill him for it but that was later and and he just didn’t give a shit, not while Rafael was standing on the sidewalk waiting for him.

Nick almost drove right past Rafael, too. He was standing hunched over next to the payphone, biting at his nail. “You okay?” Nick asked as soon as Rafael had a hand on the door.

“Drive,” Rafael said.

Nick did, merging into traffic without checking his blind spot and getting honked at for it.

“Are you okay?” Nick demanded again. He spared as many glances to Rafael as he could. His hair needed to be cut; it fell in soft waves over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. He still had his thumb against his lips, pinching the calloused skin between his teeth.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. They went the rest of the way in silence, city lights moving in harsh blue checks across their faces. Nick turned the radio on, put it between stations so the low static filled the air. Rafael tipped his head back, still for a moment until his chest jerked, shoulders bobbing as he cried and coughed with the effort not to. Nick tried to put his hand over the consol, desperate for contact, but he swerved in his lane and went back to keeping both hands on the wheel.

When they made it to Nick’s street, Rafael said, “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Nick bit his lip as he tried to parallel park. If he was only going half a mile per hour, hitting the bumpers wouldn’t leave a dent, right? “What happened?” he asked.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a mile from the curb.”

“Rafi.”

Rafael focused on his fingers as they tugged at a thread on his shirt. “I hit him.”

“Who?”

“My dad. He was yelling, you know, and I talked back and he slapped me, and I, I don’t know what happened Nick, I just hit him back.” He bent forward, trembling but not crying.

“What did he do then?” Nick asked gently as he rubbed Rafael’s back.

“Nothing, I don’t know, I just ran out of there and called you.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay now,” Nick whispered. He lead Rafael upstairs, slipped him quietly into the apartment, tiptoed to his room, crawled into to bed after Rafael, pulling the sheets up over their shoulders. They’d done it a million times; shared a bed, slept throught the night curled around each other. Usually, it was Nick in Rafael’s arms. He loved sleeping with his head on Rafi’s chest, drifting off while fingers carded through his hair. But Rafael was curled up tight, rolled in onto himself like a pill bug. So Nick laid behind him and put his arm across his chest, let their fingers interweave. He whispered, “It’s okay now, Rafi, I’m right here,” into the Rafael’s hair until he was certain Rafael had fallen asleep. “I love you.”


	11. Strangulation pt 1

Nick, when it happens, is terrified. He’s halfway out of his seat, vision tunneling to nothing but where the leather is cutting into Rafael’s neck. Olivia’s hand is on his arm, tugging him back, and then Rafael is gasping, coughing, face red but he’s back to life, walking away, back to the case. Nick sits down, focuses on his breathing because he feels like he’s going to pass out.

Nick, afterwards, is furious. He follows Rafael to the prep room, locks the door, demands to know what the fuck he was thinking. Rafael keeps trying to explain, but Nick cuts him off each time. You don’t know how badly you could’ve been hurt, he says. He knows the strangulation marks they see at work. He knows the red stripes he saw in the mirror, crossing along his skin. You don’t mess around with a belt, those things can really hurt you, he says.

Rafael, while Nick is pacing, is apologetic. The sound of a belt being snapped is trying to resurface from the memories he pushed away. He reaches out, tips of his fingers brushing Nick’s jacket, but Nick pulls away.

Rafael, afterwards, picks up the phone at 4am and says Of course when Nick says Can you just stay on the line for a while.


	12. Strangulation pt 2

The suspect was getting agitated and so was Rafael. He was on the other side of the glass, thumb tapping against his coffee cup. Nick and Fin were in the box, going at the guy hard. Time was not on their side, not with a missing kid.

“We know it was you!” Fin yelled. “You wanna go down for kidnapping or murder?”

Nick was standing next to the perp, hands on the table, right in his face. “What’s the matter? You don’t want us to know you didn’t have the balls to follow through with your plan?” He slapped the notebook they’d found on the table. 

The man let out a shout, some sort of animal screech, and lunged at Nick. He had his hands around his neck, squeezing, lifting him up so his tips of his shoes were just brushing the floor.

“Liv!” Rafael shouted. There was so much noise he didn’t know what was happening. Olivia rushed into the room with a uni, helped Fin pull the guy off. He was still shouting, damning words about what he’d done to the boy, but Rafael couldn’t get his brain to process the words. Fin and Olivia were shouting too, bodies clambering against the floor, knocking the metal chair over.

And Nick was sitting on the floor, coughing.

His face was red, finger shaped lines on his neck even redder. The bruising would be deep. 

“Breathe, respira, respira, esta bien, just breathe,” Rafael told him frantically. He was trying to be soothing. He rubbed his palm against Nick’s back until finally the coughing stopped and Nick was taking deep raspy breaths. 

“It’s okay,” he croaked. “I’m good.”

“Thank god, thank god,” Rafael whispered. He dropped his head onto Nick’s shoulder, felt them rise and fall as Nick took in more air. A hand ran through his hair and he laughed hollowly because of course Nick was comforting him.

“Mira, Rafi, I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Rafael lifted his head, couldn’t help cupping Nick’s jaw when he smiled gently at him. It was quiet in the box. The perp had been hauled out. Rafael would be charging him attempted murder of an officer later. Liv, Fin, Rollins, they were probably all watching through the glass. They had explaining to do. A lecture to receive from Liv. In a minute.

Rafael leaned forward, kissed Nick’s lips, the underside of his jaw, tucked his head against Nick’s shoulder again and listened to him breathe.


	13. When Nick has a nightmare

Rafael promised that he would go to sleep soon. He just wanted to write one last email - and Nick had hummed, said, “Don’t stay up too late, you drink too much coffee,” and shut off the lights. That was a few hours ago. One email turned into two, turned into a conversation, turned into an argument about an obscure city law from 1823. His eyes were burning and his phone was overheating when he finally decided to give it a rest. 

He put his phone on the nightstand and settled down, dropping an arm around Nick’s waist and pressing his nose into the back of his neck. Nick made a sound; Rafael was ready to apologize for waking him and get chastised for staying up so late. But Nick wasn’t awake. He twisted, trying to scramble away from Rafael’s touch. He took a sharp breath, fingers twitching and clutching at the sheets.

“Nick,” Rafael whispered. He propped himself up on his elbow, reached out hesitantly to put his hand on Nick’s arm. It made Nick jerk away quickly. “Nick,” he said again. Nick was waking now, eyes darting around the dark, chest heaving. “You okay?” he said. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to overreact - it would only embarrass Nick, make him angry.

Nick squinted at him, waiting for his eyes adjust to the low light coming in the windows. Rafael tried to relax his eyebrows so they weren’t drawn together in concern “I’m fine,” he grunted, and turned back away.

“Okay,” Rafael said. He wouldn’t press. He knew there was plenty to make Nick’s dreams turn.He shifted closer, tried to put his arm back around Nick’s chest, but Nick grabbed his forearm and said, “Don’t.” Rafael retreated.

Nick let out a wavering breath and pressed his face into the pillow. Rafael stayed to his side, watching Nick’s ribs rise and fall for the rest of the night. 

The next day he drank twice as much coffee as usual and still needed to take a nap on his office couch during his lunch break. Olivia and Nick caught him - Olivia teased, but Nick only kept his gaze elsewhere, looking ashamed and angry.


	14. "I'm here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses"

Everything seemed brighter in California. Nick’s bedroom had white walls and sheer curtains, hardwood floors that reflected early morning sunlight. There were no skyscrapers blocking out the sun, no black pavement sucking up all other colors. When Rafael was just waking up, slants of light creeping up the bed and onto their bodies, he thought Nick looked radiant. His skin was shining, golden; hair lit up to show all the undertones of mahogany and single strands of gray. He was content to spend all day, his whole visit, dozing with the comforter bunched around them.

Soon the door opened and Zara came bounding in, jumping onto the bed and flopping between them. Nick groaned and tried to pull the sheet over his head, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Breakfast time,” Zara said.

“Seven,” Rafael said.

Nick rolled over onto his back and smiled tiredly at Zara and Rafael. “Morning, sweat pea.”

“I want pancakes,” Zara said, bouncing on the mattress happily.

“I bet you do,” Nick said. He reached his arm around Zara to brush the hair off Rafael’s forehead to say good morning.

“With chocolate chips.”

“Okay okay. Why don’t you go pour your juice, and I’ll come start the pancakes, mija.”

“Okay, but first you have to give me a hug and a kiss.”

“Right now? You’re gonna use up your daily allotment of hugs and kisses and then at night I won’t be able to give you a kiss before bed,” Nick teased but kissed Zara’s forehead and sent her scampering off.

“Mmm, what about me?”Rafael said, smirk already playing at the corner of his lips.

“What about you,” Nick asked as he threw the covers back.

“I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses, too. I might as well get them in while they’re still available.”

Nick looked back at him and shook his head, smiling broadly. He leaned over the bed and cupped Rafael’s jaw, kissing him sweetly. “Don’t worry; you can always take out a loan if you go over.” 


	15. "I'm cold, come closer"

When it started, Rafael was tense and alert, sitting straight in in his chair, cup of coffee nearly forgotten by his hand. A few hours of nothing later, he thought he’d never been so bored in his life. At least in school he had a time to count down to, an escape in sight. Now - now who knows how long he’d be stuck in a graffitied and beat up van, monitors showing no activity. The most exciting part of the evening had been watching two pigeons fight over a wrapper.

They were waiting for the leader of a prostitution ring to show up with new girls; they’d gotten a tip that he brought him to an empty warehouse to break them in before moving them to the house with the others. It didn’t seem like he would be coming that night.

There was a crackling of radio static and then Fin leaned over his seat to say, “That was Liv. Said will give him another hour and then head back.” 

“Got it,” Nick said. He and Rafael were in the back with the equipment while Fin and Rollins sat up front. The three of them were geared up, ready to burst out of the van at any moment. Rafael, for the first time in his life, felt underdressed. Maybe not _underdressed_ , but sitting a suit while everyone around him had on bulletproof vests made him feel off and unprotected. He was there to keep an eye on them, make sure they didn’t go breaking any laws and ruin his case like they usually did.

He didn’t like seeing Nick in his vest anyway. His job was always dangerous but that just served to amplify it to Rafael. A vest wouldn’t help him against a head shot. Rafael shivered.

“You cold?” Nick asked.

Rafael nodded. It was true enough. They’d killed the engine to avoid suspicion and save gas, and the coffee wasn’t warming him up sufficiently anymore. Nick shrugged off his police jacket and handed it over. He scooted his chair closer.

Rafael glanced up at Fin and Rollins, but they were talking, uninterested in what ever was happening behind them. Rafael let Nick slip his fingers between his own.

“Come closer,” Nick said, “I’m cold.”

Rafael laughed. “Shouldn’t’ve given me your jacket, tonto.”

Nick moved even closer, wrapped an arm around Rafael and rested his chin on Rafael’s shoulder. “Trying to be a gentleman,” he murmured and pressed a soft, soundless kiss to the corner of Rafael’s jaw. Rafael smiled, leaned into the solidness of Nick’s chest. There was still no movement on the monitor. Tomorrow, or the day after, or eventually, they would get the guy. But for now Nick was safe, and they both were warm.


	16. First Kiss

Rafael was bitter. About chemical equations, about the fact that he even had to take chemistry when he knew he would never need to know anything about valence electrons or covalent bonds in the real world. About needing a tutor, about the tutor being an underclassman, about his tutor being Nick Amaro. He was really bitter about that.

Of all the students his teacher could have picked, he had to pick Amaro. He was cocky, popular. A jock who was too aware of how good looking he was. And, apparently, top of his class in chemistry.

Rafael slumped in his seat. Nick was late. The worksheet in front of him was half done, answers barely legible over the smudge marks from his eraser. The door opened, letting in a burst of noise. Rafael looked up to see Nick laughing and waving to some kids in the hall. His sleeves were too long, bunched up at his wrist. 

“Hey,” he said as he sat in the chair next to Rafael. “I’m Nick.”

“Yeah, I know. Let’s just get this over with.”

Nick brought his eyebrows together, his mouth twisting into an angry pout. “I’m here to help you. If you don’t want -”

“I don’t. I don’t want to be here. Let’s just make that clear. I’m almost a senior, I don’t want help doing a worksheet from a sophomore.”

“If you’re almost a senior, that means I’m almost a junior. And based on your work,” Nick pointed a finger at Rafael’s paper “’cause that’s wrong by the way, you need my help.”

“It’s not wrong,” Rafael said as he frowned down at it.

“Yes it is. You forgot about the oxygen in water.”

Nick was right. Fuck. 

Nick scooted his chair closer, making Rafael lean back. Nick was completely in his space now, so close Rafael could smell the shampoo on his hair. Nick was pointing out more mistakes, his finger sliding across the paper as he spoke. 

“You should make a table for each equation. Then it’s just testing out different numbers until it balances.”

“That takes so much time. I don’t want to just guess.”

Nick scoffed, actually scoffed at him. “That’s why you keep getting them wrong. Cause you think making the tables will make you look stupid. That’s how you learn, compay.” He leaned down to dig through his backpack and resurfaced with an eraser, wiping Rafael’s work away. The paper was left rough, faint lines of numbers etched in. “Do it again.”

Rafael picked up his pencil.

xxxx

Nick kept tutoring him every day. He was incredibly patient, explaining each lesson over and over with different analogies and examples until they finally clicked in Rafael’s brain. It was miracle, really, mostly because the more frustrated Rafael became, the more cutting he got. He was sarcastic, insulting, but Nick gave as good as he got. And at the end of each lesson he seemed genuinely proud of Rafael’s progress. He was beginning to see how Nick got to be so popular. It didn’t hurt that he was a jock, that he was good looking and had a smile that lifted one corner of his mouth higher than the other as he tilted his head and crinkled his eyes. But he was also easy company, joking around and friendly.

Not that Rafael wanted to be friends with him. He was still an underclassman, after all.

(And there was also the slight issue that Nick made Rafael feel hot, his heart going into his throat and making it harder to talk, feelings coming back that he’d been trying to ignore).

But not being friend was not an option as far as Nick was concerned. He started hanging out with Rafael during the day, glaring at Alex when he teased Rafael, more than once telling him to shut up. And Alex told him to get lost, told Rafael to get rid of his puppy. But Rafael liked it. He liked Nick being protective of him, even if he didn’t really need protecting. So he said, “No way; I’ve been trying to get you to shut up for years.” 

Nick was slowly becoming his best friend, and Rafael was slowly becoming concerned about how much he liked him. After an hour of tutoring, Nick still hung around, offering to to get something to eat with him, to hang out in the park, go to an arcade. Rafael usually turned him down, saying he had to go home. Nick presumably just went alone. He never wanted to go home. Rafael understood that, remembered when his father still lived with them. So he didn’t comment. And every once in a while took pity on him and let him buy him pizza and a coke or show him how to play Donkey Kong.

And then one day Nick said, “We’re having a party at my house. Do you wanna come?” And Rafael felt like he’d slide into another dimension because surly he hadn’t just been invited to a party, surly not one that dozens of other popular kids would be at. 

“I’m not really interested in watching your friends throw up after their first beer,” he said. 

“It’s not that kind of party. Come on, please?” And what was Rafael supposed to do when Nick was looking at him like that?

xxxx

Rafael was confused. Nick’s party was not really a party. It was just him and his mother and sister. And Rafael. But the radio was playing and his mother was making too many dishes and Nick looked happier than Rafael had ever seen him.

“Come on, we can hang out in my room until dinner’s ready,” he said, tugging Rafael along.

His room was neat, the bed made. Though Rafael knew it was probably only so clean because company was coming. There were some posters on the wall, a few old sports trophies on the dresser. Rafael felt out of place. He didn’t belong at a family party, he didn’t belong in Nick’s apartment, he didn’t belong on Nick’s bed with Nick sitting right next to him.

“Is there anyone else coming?” he asked.

“Yeah, my abuela is on her way.”

“What are you celebrating, anyway?”

Nick fidgeted. “It’s just, you know, it’s a good day.” He have a little laugh. “I think it’s the best day of my life.”

Rafael looked pointedly around the empty room. “You have low standards.”

Nick gave him a shove. 

“Well, what are we celebrating?”

Nick blushed. “You can’t tell anyone at school, okay?”

“Okay,” Rafael agreed, a little taken aback that Nick was trusting him with a secret.

“My dad moved out. And, you know, we’re happy to see him go.”

“I get that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, we didn’t have a party when he left, but we probably should have.”

Nick looked at him with wide eyes. Rafael felt hot. He didn’t tell people about that. He didn’t trust people like that. And he got the sense that Nick didn’t either. He was about to ask just what they were doing, when had they become best friends, so close? when Nick leaned forward and pressed his lips to Rafael’s.

“Is that okay?” Nick asked. Rafael had never seen him look less confident. And he had never felt the way he did now; it was so foreign he could hardly describe it. But it was good. Adrenaline rushing though him and skin alight with nerve endings. 

He was never going to do that. He was never going to kiss a boy, never going to tell one he like him.

He probably would never had been this happy.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” He reached out a hand and put it on Nick’s shoulder, shirt soft and skin warm under his fingers. He kissed him again, quick and inexperienced and so so good.

Mrs. Amaro called for them to come set the table. Nick was beaming. He gave Rafael one last kiss before standing and shouting they would be right there. 

“Wow,” he said. “It really is the best day of my life.”


	17. Panic Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this includes descriptions of having a panic attack and of blood

He was fine. He was fine. 

He wasn’t superstitious. He was barely holding on to being religious.

One bad day in court didn’t mean the next time he walked into the room it would happen all over again. He was fine.

He forced himself to release his grip on the edge of the sink. He would not be sick. He was fine. He would not look in the mirror. If he didn’t see how sloppily he had put himself together that morning (his fingers had been stiff and unresponsive, trying to get dressed as fast as he could like he was beating a clock but there was no reason, all he knew was he needed it done, needed it done now, faster, and he couldn’t fucking do it) he would be fine.

He went to the door, doubled back to grab his briefcase, double back again to get his wallet. It was time to go. He was late. He didn’t know what time it was but he was late, he needed to get out, get to work, his skin was crawling with the need.

“Raf, calm down,” Nick said. 

“I need to go.” He didn’t want to go. He would give anything not to have to go to work. It would happen again. Blood on the polished wood, soaking into clothes, splattering as Rafael watched a life end in an instant.

It wouldn’t. He was fine.

“Just take a breath. Okay?”

Rafael inhaled, exhaled. His heart was pounding, he could feel his own pulse in his neck. The carotid artery. 

(He knew what that looked like when it was ripped open by a bullet, he knew what it looked like surrounded by stained skin, no longer flowing with blood, empty, sinew and muscle shredded around it and eyes staring right at him.)

“I meant a deep breath. Do it with me,” Nick said, and put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. He could feel his skin sparking, itching. He needed it off, needed nothing to touch him, everything was too close and he could _feel_  it on him, the walls, the air, his clothes were so heavy.

“Get off,” he snapped. “I’m fine.” He was fine. He was fine. 

He couldn’t breathe. His chest was heaving but his lungs wouldn’t fill, and he was dying, he was going to be dead and then his eyes would look just like they did, staring at Nick but he wouldn’t be able to see him because he was dead and wouldn’t exist anymore but his body would be there and look so heavy and other people would see him.

“Rafael, Rafael.” Nick was in front of him. His hands were close, fingers outstretched but fighting his instinct. He wanted to hold him, wrap his arms around him, kiss his hair, shield him and comfort him, Rafael knew he did. He’d done it before. Rafael had done the same for him, knew that the warmth and weight of human contact would melt him, force him to face whatever emotion he had converted into tense muscle.

But the air around him was charged, thick. He fumbled to get his jacket off. He was on the floor. He didn’t remember that happening, but he was, Nick sitting in front of him. He was fine. He was fine. 

He needed to go, but he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, they couldn’t make him and he wasn’t going to. 

He was saying it out loud, mumbling or crying? He didn’t know. He didn’t go. Nick didn’t go. He say on the hardwood floor in front of the door and kept his hands to himself until Rafael darted out a hand and gripped Nick’s forearm tight, tugged him close and let the static beneath his skin be smothered by the slow circles Nick rubbed on his back. 

He would be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> all my fics can be found [here](starrynvghts.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic)


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